Maintaining optimism in times of change

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That’s an odd title, of course, when you consider that change is the universal constant. At times it’s easy to think things have stayed the same for a while and then you get a glance at a few extra gray hairs here and there and you realize it’s been going on for a while without you noticing it.

As I mentioned in another post, my job of the last dozen years will come to an end at the end of July. Whether it was a great run or not, it has come to an end as do all things. This change has imposed itself on me in a very obvious way that cannot be ignored. I can miss a few new gray hairs for a while but I cannot miss the end of a longstanding position.

“That is no country for old men.” John Butler Yeats

That is the first line of Yeats’ poem, Sailing to Byzantium. I interpret the poem and that line differently than most. In it, I hear that the future does away with the aged; that country is the future. In Hamlet, Shakespeare called death the undiscovered country. Both writers sought to make the future a place as well as a time. In doing so they sought to make time into something less amorphous and more comprehensible.

As writers often do, they were trying to tell us something. For me, the lesson is that these times of obvious change are cosmic favors. It’s up to me to see it as such and to seize the opportunity. The angst of times like these is driven by uncertainty and the question of whether I am up to challenges the future has in store. So often, the changes brought by time happen when we’re unaware or distracted by other things. But, this change, by the sheer obviousness of it, is calling out to me to make it into a time of gain rather than loss.

I am looking forward to a very interesting fall and winter. Both should be seasons of great opportunity; the kinds of opportunities that only a big change can bring.

Maintaining optimism in times of change

Reaching my golf potential with Jim Venetos: Book Two

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Looking north from Crystalaire Country Club
Looking northwest from Crystalaire Country Club

I’ve been driving the 80 miles to Crystalaire for my lessons with Jim Venetos. At first, I rather dreaded the drive; it’s a long way for a golf lesson. But, to quote Venetos, “It’s a chill drive.” It’s especially nice on a late Saturday morning to hop in my car and head to the desert. I’m kind of a desert guy at heart and Crystalaire looks across the Antelope Valley toward the Tehachapis and my beloved Eastern Sierra.

This was my fifth lesson with Venetos and I’m pleased with my progress. My initial goals were: 1) To hit the ball more solid more often. 2) To shorten my back swing. 3) To quiet my lower body on the full swing. The Venetos swing makes all those things happen with but a few “thoughts.” Venetos would say there’s only one thought needed…stillness…but I’ve never been a man of so few words.

My job of the last dozen years is coming to an end at the end of July, so my work with Venetos has come at an interesting time. It feels like a time for change in more ways than one. I plan on playing a lot of golf through the summer and into the fall. This is a rare opportunity and I know that once I’m back working it will, again, be hard to play and practice as much as I want.

I have a week of golf coming up the second week of June and a big golf week planned for September with one of my favorite cousins. We’re not sure where we’re going to meet…could be Vegas or it could be Scotland but I know it will be a trip for the ages.

Here are a couple thoughts about the Venetos method as regards some questions raised here and elsewhere:

Distance is the same or a tad more with all clubs, I was hitting 9 irons about 135 yards with my idea of a 3/4 swing. Venetos said I should consider that distance a full 9 and that 3/4 swing a full swing…he saw no need for a 9 iron to fly any further. Point taken.

The shift into set up feels natural quite very quickly though I do not close my shoulders as much as Venetos would like. To me, that’s the only element of the swing that feels like a physical challenge.

I hit a draw 90 percent of the time and with the Venetos swing I hit it about 60 percent of the time. The address position gets rid of some movements and some of the movements that have been eliminated were the timing elements I used to make the ball work right to left. When I do it right, the balls draws the same amount with the Venetos swing as my previous swing.

The weight-left swing tires my left leg out by the end of a Venetos 90 minute lesson which always lasts for two hours. I have taken to practicing standing on one leg whenever I’m standing in line or riding the subway. It’s good for my balance and my sense of left side stillness and stability. I can hike all day at elevation but I get worn out hitting a lot of golf balls in a two hour lesson. That’s just me…

Venetos added a goal I had not considered. He said he’d like to see my handicap drop from 10 ish to a 5 ish. I am not so sure. I ain’t getting any younger or any better looking. Still, it’s nice that Venetos sees that kind of improvement as a possibility. I putt well and have a good short game so any drop in my handicap will have to come from how well I strike the ball.

Reaching my golf potential with Jim Venetos: Book Two

The value of faking optimism

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This article is pretty interesting. It’s one of the few I’ve read to focus on the idea that even if you don’t feel optimistic it’s beneficial to act optimistic. The article asks reader to channel their inner Tiggers rather than succumb to their usual trend toward their inner Eeyore.

Two of the more intriguing elements of the article are the ideas that the way people walk and the way they imagine themselves can be so important to a person’s sense of positive and negative outlooks. I usually prefer to walk quite quickly when my interest is getting from one place to another. When I notice my shadow I see a figure that’s canted forward slightly and moving briskly. It sometimes feels like a happy gait but more often it just feels purposeful.

Imagining myself is really tricky. After thinking about it for a time I realized that I usually imagined ideas, actions and things. I want to work on my book or practice my golf swing. The “I” in both of those sentences and thoughts feel a bit less significant than golf and writing. The article quotes Jeff Wise from Psychology Today:

He states, “People do transform their lives, every day. But for the most part they don’t do it by relying on willpower. The key, it turns out, is to simply start behaving like the person you want to become. Instead of wondering, What should I do?, imagine your future, better self and ask: What would they do? This approach works because of the rather surprising way that our brains form self-judgments. Numerous experiments have demonstrated that when it comes to forming beliefs about our own character and proclivities, we don’t peer inward, as you might expect; instead, we observe our own external behavior. If we see ourselves carrying out a particular action—whatever the actual motivation—our self-conception molds itself to explain that reality.”

I confess I find this to be a little tricky. It’s easy to imagine myself practicing golf but it’s harder to imagine myself as the better golfer that would result from lots of practice without putting in the practice first.

Rather than focusing on my future golf-self or my future writer-self I tend to focus on the next step. There’s an old saying that goes, “What’s the most important step on the journey to the of the mountain? The next one…” But, maybe the next step focus doesn’t do enough to develop optimism? Miguel Cervantes wrote, “Love not what you are, but what you may become.” It may be that you have to envision your future and better self first and then imagine what that future self would do. That seems like a more inspiring approach…

The value of faking optimism

3rd Generation Mini Cooper review through the eyes of a 1st Generation 2006 Copper Owner/Lover

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I put off driving a new Mini Cooper for years.

The fact is that I’ve driven a 2nd Generation Cooper S but the only Cooper I’ve driven is my own 2006 Cooper named Titan.

I’ve liked Titan since the day I took custody of him on January 7, 2007. He was a Late Build 2006; the best of the 1st Gen Minis. Initially, I found the gearbox lackluster and the engine, well, trending toward the average.

But now, after 7 years, I have grown to love this car.

Now, Titan sits in the garage with 143,000 miles on the clock. The gearbox, clutch & engine all work the very same way they did when I drove him off the lot at Bob Smith Mini back i 2007. There are no door dings, only a few rock chips on the hood to mar his rare beauty.

Still, time stand still for no car; not even the Titan.

Last Sunday I went to the new home of Bob Smith Mini to drive a new 2015 Mini Cooper. I knew there would be no manual transmission cars on the lot so I decided to drive an auto, just to get a feel for the new 3 cylinder engine and the driving dynamics of the new, bigger Mini.

Size matters.

The new Cooper is a larger and more buttoned down car, of these facts there is no doubt. The engine is cool and collected and the transmission is pretty slick. Handling is a huge question mark. My 2006 Cooper handles (to this day) with deft aplomb and near-surgical precision. The 2015 Cooper more glides over the road more than it carves it up. Turn in is controlled but it’s also more than a touch toward the languid. In the few turns that I took the chassis felt stout enough but the suspension was meant to please another kind of driver; dare I say, a driver used to driving lesser cars.

For whom is the 2015 Cooper intended? I think it’s intended for someone who likes their idea of a Mini. They like the idea of the Mini’s kind of cool. They like that the new Mini is said to be larger and more comfortable. When they actually get around to driving the 2015 they’ll be driving a car that will drive pretty much like what they’re used to. When the goal is to sell more cars, this makes sense.

But, it’s not really in keeping with the spirit that Mini has established. Writing about a car’s soul is tricky. BMW owned the MIni brand for a very long time before they came out with the Cooper. I’m sure they spent a lot of time looking at the original Mini and wondering about its translation into a contemporary car. The succeeded beyond anyone’s expectation and they did so by building a pure car; a car with soul.

My 2006 Cooper begs me to swing it hard into corners. The 2015 is a little numb on center and quick movements of the steering wheel bring a sense of lift before the car changes direction. The new Cooper needs to be convinced to turn while the older Cooper seemed almost to anticipate turns and curves.

The longer wheelbase of the 2015 is a good thing, though. The 2006 is solid and predictable until you really get it going and start to push it. It never feels light, but sudden changes of direction at speed reveal the stability limitations of a such a short wheeelbase.

I cannot promise that I will not buy a 2015 Mini Cooper. My plan is to find a manual transmission version to test drive. Many a car has had its personality changed with the simple presence of that third pedal. A touch more soul just might do it.

3rd Generation Mini Cooper review through the eyes of a 1st Generation 2006 Copper Owner/Lover

Reaching my golf potential with Jim Venetos: Book One

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So as through a glass, and darkly
The age long strife I see
Where I fought in many guises,
Many names, but always me.
George S. Patton, Jr. / Through a Glass, Darkly

Through the travail of the ages I have walked many golf courses, in many places with many results and I have appeared in many guises. I have been the confident golfer and the struggling golfer. I have been the teacher and the historian. I have been the golf buddy who made the starting time. I have been the son who picked up his father to take him to the course. I have been the single paired the 20 something threesome of college buddies. And, I often have been alone yet never lonely.

Oh I’ve been from Jerusalem to Rome
Now I’m floating through these rooms tonight alone
And looking back on everything
All I ever wanted was a home
Marc Cohn / Olana

Oh I have been from Torrey Pines to Desert Willow
Now I’m floating above those fairways alone
In looking back & looking forward
All I ever wanted was to strike the ball pure
Paul Cervantes

For some golf is like a fraternity. For some it’s an office without doors. For some it’s the oddest kind of pastime; a game misunderstood yet still enjoyed.

For me, golf is the state of feeling close to something yet so far away. It’s the quest for a destination that’s uncharted It’s like being in a dark and unfamiliar room looking for a lightswitch.

It has been ever thus, but…but now time feels so very fleeting.

Get busy living, or get busy dying. That’s Goddam right…
Red / The Shawshank Redemption

Figure this out, or take up an easier game.
Paul Cervantes

Figuring it out doesn’t mean shooting a certain score. It certainly doesn’t mean beating anyone or making money at golf. For me it means finding a haven of effectiveness. It means finding or creating a method of moving the golf club that brings the center of the club face into the ball.

What could be more simple? Still, as I am prone to say, simple is seldom easy.

After last year’s 6 month failed effort I came into this year with a searching state of mind. I kept asking myself, what should I do?

Here’s how I saw my options:

1) Reengage with self-discovery. Hogan dug it out of the Earth and so can I.

2) Look for help. Just because the last pro I worked with wasn’t able to help doesn’t mean you won’t succeed with another pro.

Self discovery is very cool. Others have done it, no doubt about it. But I think it’s a very tricky thing for one big reason.

In golf, feelings often lie.

Also, in trying to do one thing you can end up doing another and that other can really hurt..

For example: If I try to turn my lower body through impact my shoulders spin, carrying the club head over the top. The resulting pull-draw can be played but there’s something unsatisfying about it.

Does this result from my own fundamental lack of flexibility, the same one identified by my Titleist TPI evaluation from years back?

Maybe. Probably.

But, more essentially, it points out that an effort to do one thing can cause another thing that in turn causes a problem. Bummer.

As I was bouncing between the polar opposite perspectives of figure this out yourself or for God’s sake, get some help I happened upon a video at 4GEA.com, one of the older and crustier golf gear enthusiast websites.

The video was 1:13 long and showed a single swing in very slow motion.

My reply: I feel like 1:13 of my life was just stolen.

Later, I watched the video with the sound turned on.

Great idea; it was a big help to actually hear what this guy was saying before calling BS on him.

There’s a chance one (yeah, I know that’s a pretty small chance) of you knows that I edited a book by Tony Manzoni called, The Lost Fundamental. Manzoni opines that the golf swing ought have a single axis or pivot and that point is on the right handed player’s left side.

Now this idea compelled me but I was working on the book so I didn’t want to try it on my game while my head was into helping Manzoni write the book.

Still, long after the book was finished I tried it (especially with driver) and got some very encouraging results. Odd, though, I couldn’t find a way to incorporate the technique into shorter clubs.

I know, this seems like a digression but it’s not.

The Jim Venetos swing is the Tony Manzoni swing on steroids with a shot of spiced rum with a twist of lime.

A left sided swing promises a lot for me (and a lot of other players, too). It promises a quieter lower body. It promises a shorter back swing. Most of all, though, it promises more consistent, and more solid contact.

Ding!

I’ve now enjoyed three lessons with Jim Venetos. He says that after 8 lessons I’ll be on the Champions Tour (Sorry, Jim…couldn’t resist the hyperbole) but even if it takes 10 or 15 I’ll be overjoyed. We’re also having an informal  contest to see who can talk more in the course of 90 minutes and so far we’re in a dead heat. At any given minute he may be saying, Yeah, man, I could see you fighting for stillness there…So, good contact but shoulders were a little open…That was a little fat so what did that tell you?

I can usually heard to be muttering a series of expletives and groans punctuated by the (very) occasional exultation of, I can do this!

The I can do this sound comes after I have actually achieved a small dose of stillness and an attendant sense of my weight staying left throughout the swing. It’s is so far a fleeting feeling that comes and goes. When it comes it feels solid, inevitable and obvious and the strike is heavy and solid.

When the feeling is missing I usually find myself cheating stillness by starting with my weight left but allowing it (and the rest of me) to drift right as the club moves back.

Horrors.

There will come a point where you realize you could have kept your weight still right away, in the first lesson.
Jim Venetos

No, I am not there yet.

Still, the promise of all this is a swing I can take with me into the rest of my 50s, into my 60s and beyond. All promises rely on faith and golf is a game that often seems designed to test our faith.

In Reaching my golf potential with Jim Venetos: Book Two I’ll talk more about my quest and how Jim is doing as my sherpa. What I am starting to feel is a confidence in the method that is very settling. The question remains whether I can (can, as in have the ability) to fully mesh the method with my brain and body. In the law, you take the plaintiff as you find him. In golf, you take the player as you find him. I am who I am.

Without jumping ahead to answer that question in the affirmative, I will say that I intend to continue to strive toward stillness. I hope you’ll follow my journey.

Reaching my golf potential with Jim Venetos: Book One

The best major championship in golf?

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US Open: Tour players are seldom embarrassed and I enjoy it when the USGA’s motive over four days is to do just that. A little humility is a good thing especially when you’re driving courtesy cars every week. I find must-make par putts far more interesting than a procession of makable putts for birdie and eagle.

The Open Championship: The R&A doesn’t have the same flair for penal setups as the USGA and their rota is a bit tiring. Still, I love the spectacle, the weather and the galleries. Bring on the wind and rain, preferably both at the same time.

The Masters: As much as I admire Jones, I despise the patrician and elitist nature of AN. But, the back 9 is an amazingly good theater every year. If I had been Rickie Fowler and some AN clown told me to turn my hat around I would have told him to pack sand.

The PGA: The PGA is has no identity. It’s just another event that’s called a major. Many of the courses are ho-hum and so are a lot of the winners. I think they should make it back into a match play event but the potential loss of TV money means that will never happen. They could have two days of stroke play and take the top guys and play 18 hole matches on Saturday and have a 36 hole championship match just to maximize the suffering.

The best major championship in golf?

Is optimism tied to American-style individualism?

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A person can be optimistic about a lot of things. A sports fan can be optimistic that their favorite team is going to have a good season. Some people are optimistic about the future. But, does optimism spring more readily from a culture that also values individualism?

This article sets out to show just such a link.

As an aside, I’m always surprised that the Germans are such a dreary lot.

The piece cites a Pew Research Center study of 44 countries that focused on people’s sense of control and also the effect of hard work. The results show that Americans believe both in the ability of the individual to exercise control and also in the value of hard work to affect an outcome.

Seems sensible but, then again, I’m an American.

Our individualized optimism is even set apart among other wealthy nations. Again, what’s Germany’s problem? They build some great cars and have the Autobahn for goodness sake.

I find the study results interesting because I do not find the average American all that optimistic. Instead I see and hear a sense of stuckness from a lot of people. People are questioning the cost and benefit of everything from education to government. Certitude of mission seems in short supply. Not even NASA seems sure of their mission these days.

Still, there’s a kind of resilience alongside the uncertainty, a kind of confidence borne of the unusual alchemy of democracy and individualism. As attitudinally challenged as we are here, I’m glad I’m not in Germany.

Is optimism tied to American-style individualism?

Flow & living as an art

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A couple years ago, when I first started to think about optimism I considered the phrase, living is an art.

It seemed like a pretentious notion, perfectly mated to new age sensibilities. As time went on I began to think that even if it did seem pretentious it might very well be true.

The word flow triggers the same response. This article defines flow and describes its eight ingredients:

1 The experience occurs usually when we are involved in tasks that we have a good chance of completing.

2 We are able to concentrate fully on the activity.

3 The task has clear goals.

4 The task is such that it gives us immediate feedback on how well we are doing.

5 Our involvement is “deep but effortless” and this “removes from awareness the worries and frustrations of everyday life.”

6 There is a sense of exercising control over our actions.

7 Concern for the self disappears but paradoxically our “sense of self emerges stronger after the flow experience is over.”

8 We lose our normal sense of time “we can feel either that it has speeded up (and passed quickly) or slowed down.”

Just to show how challenging flow can be when it comes to, oh let’s say, golf and writing consider my take on them respective to those activities:

1 This is a very poor fit. The sense that the task of writing and golf can be completed is completely absent from the experience. There’s always another swing to be made and another word to be chosen.

2 Yes, full concentration on both golf and writing is highly desirable.

3 Yes, the goals are clear (usually).

4 Um, sometimes the task gives immediate feedback and sometimes it doesn’t. I can spend quite a bit of time writing only to realize days later that what I wrote didn’t really work. Similarly, working on golf involves a good bit of sideways and even some backward steps. It’s simply a very hard game and reliable feedback isn’t a constant.

5Effortlessness in golf or writing is both rare and short lived. It does happen, it’s glorious and then it’s gone.

6 Certainly, control over actions is a feature in both golf and writing.

7 The disappearance of the self is a tough one, too.

“Just be the ball.” -Ty Webb in Caddyshack

8 The emergence of the stronger self is true. Success brings confidence. In golf, I can recall certain shots, the way impact felt, the way the ball flew and I can imagine myself doing it again. Good writing, too, breeds an excitement about the next idea, the next event and the next part of a story. Time does speed up when I’m writing, but that’s mostly because I am always putting it between the rock and a hard place of other activities that demand my attention. Golf has an easier time of it; if I’m on the range or the course the nature of time does change.

More flow is a good thing, but it’s not always easy to achieve.

Flow & living as an art

The optimism & gratitude connection

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“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others.” – Cicero

I believe this.

Rarely do any of my borderline-pessimistic friends speak of gratitude. They tend, instead, to repeat narratives about those who have slighted them. Each repetition make the offense new again.

It’s a very bad habit.

The funny thing is that even though I can trend toward pessimism I have feelings of immense gratitude. To start with, I am grateful to God and the fates for living where I do and when. I was never so foolish that my gratitude toward my parents faltered. I know that few parents measure up to mine when it came to love, support and understanding. They were amazing people.

On the other hand, gratitude can bring out something else in me as well. On the other side of gratitude is a fear that even with all of the gifts and benefits I’ve enjoyed, my life’s work may not amount to much. It’s the feeling of knowing you’ve had so much help and good fortune but it still might not be enough. In those sobering moments I am prone to remind myself that Van Gogh sold only one painting, The Red Vineyard, and then died a few months later at the age of 37.

The Red Vineyard

My total writing sales amount to just about what Van Gogh got for his painting and I’m now 53. I say it’s sobering to avoid using the word depressing.

Still, I am glad to have so much gratitude in my heart. I just need to create a technique that allows me to convert feelings of thankfulness into optimistic action, and that’s proven tricky for me so far.

The optimism & gratitude connection

Optimism and cardio vascular health

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If you’re smart, you’ll ignore this blog post and read this article from Scientific American Blogs by Scott Barry Kaufman immediately.

Here’s the most relevant quote from the article:

“Since that 2012 review, two additional studies have come out that further point to the robustness of this association. Rosalba Hernandez and colleagues focused on the American Heart Association’s definition of cardiovascular disease (CVD), which involves consideration of 7 metrics grouped into two categories: health behaviors (diet, smoking, physical activity, BMI) and health factors (blood pressure, blood sugar, total cholestrol). This was the first study to consider the association between optimism and CVH as defined by the American Heart Association, and this was also the first study to utilize a large sample of ethnically/racially diverse sample of adults.

Using data collected from 5,134 adults aged 52-84 over an 11 year period, they found a significant association between optimism and cardiovascular health (CVH), with the most optimistic people showing twice the odds of having ideal CVH profiles. The association remained significant even after controlling for socio-demographic variables (i.e., age, sex, race/ethnicity, marital status, education, income, and insurance status) and measures of psychological ill-being (e.g., depression), again supporting the notion that a lack of ill-being doesn’t necessarily indicate the presence of thriving.”

OK, so you’ve insisted on hanging around. I’ll tell you why I find it so relevant.

An old friend of mine is becoming ever more prone to pessimism. He’s always had an inclination toward mild fatalism though he’s married, has a family and fine career.

Still, he experiences the word no more strongly than any other:

No, I can’t do anything I might enjoy.

No, I can’t get any meaningful exercise.

No, I can lose any of the weight I’ve packed on over the last year or so.

To put the cherry on the sundae of this guy’s life let me tell you that he had an emergency angioplasty a couple years back. The artery that was blocked is nicknamed The Widowmaker by cardiologists.

You would think (and I thought) that this and the other normal stuff of life in the 50s would wake my old friend up to the need to take better care of himself. But it hasn’t…yet. I am ever the optimist.

Another quote from the article is this:

“When individuals are confronted with challenge, they may succumb or they may respond in one of three ways: They may survive (continuing to function, but in an impaired fashion), recover (return to previous levels of emotional, social and psychological functioning), or thrive (to go beyond the prior baseline, to grow and flourish). Through the interactive process of confronting and coping with challenges, a transformation occurs.”

I readily admit that for many years I trended toward an acceptance of mere recovery as opposed to a quest to thrive. I have since learned the error of my ways. Some days, perhaps more days than I would care to admit, I have to beat back the temptation to accept simple survival and recovery as good enough. But they’re not.

Pushing my old friend back from the brink and on toward his better self can be an emotional challenge. And, it would be nice to have someone encourage me as I have encouraged him. I will always believe that he’s one clever bit of encouragement away from changing the way he treats himself. Someday he’ll thrive.

Optimism and cardio vascular health